ToonStruck: Who Was I?
by The Great Allie
Summary: Count Nefarious's three undead henchmen are supremely loyal to him and do his bidding in death as they did in life- or did they? When Lugnut begins to pick at the threads of a mysterious person he feels a primal connection to, he, Goggles, and Feedback unravel the mystery of who they used to be.
1. Rumble in the Pub

_Given how up in the air the end of "Toonstruck" was, and how it's just... so very clearly not finished, it's a little hard to write fanfiction for. So I made a few fudges in ways I can't exposition away in the text. Basically, everything is the same except 1) The Malevolator, the Cutifier, and the Warp Button were all destroyed at the end, 2) Drew isn't turning into a 'toon, either because the serum part didn't happen or it didn't work on him, whichever you can suspend your disbelief for, and 3) After Fluffy Fluffy Bun Bun's plan failed, she put King Hugh back in power (for NOW!) but she made it so he doesn't remember her doing anything to him, so no one suspects her of wrongdoing except for Drew and Flux._

* * *

Flux Wildly didn't care to spend time in the Shamrock Pub, the social gathering point for Cutopians. The establishments in Zanydu were far more exciting and lively, with patrons bouncing off the walls and falling through the floor at every chance. Cutopia, meanwhile, was full of cuddly-wuddly little critters drinking some of the least alcoholic beverages in all of creation, snuggling, giggling, and having a swell old time. Talk about boring! If something didn't explode or someone didn't get hit by a pie, Flux would just leave Drew to his work and head back to his little hole in the wall.

Drew had wanted to come here ever since he got a new sketchpad and charcoals. He was sitting at one of the tables, pad flat on top, and he had been carefully sketching the elaborate organ on the north wall for over an hour now. Flux had watched the drawing take shape with interest at first before slowly becoming bored with his stationary companion. The organ on the paper looked nothing at all like the organ on the wall; it was linear and sturdy-looking, not at all like the crazy contraption that drew all the attention in the room to itself.

"Why are you drawing it like that, anyway?" Flux asked as he spun himself around on the bar stool. As he passed by Drew's work, he glanced at his friend's progress. Focusing on one spot made him less dizzy, and less likely to upchuck (though if he had to look at those snuggling bunnies for much longer, he might do that anyway.)

"It's realism," said Drew, not taking his eyes off his work.

"Realism?"

"Yes- the attempt to depict subjects truthfully, as they really appear."

"So why does your drawing look nothing like the organ?"

"That's the thing!" Drew glanced back at Flux, who was looking quizzical. "For years now, I've been a cartoonist. That means I take things that are real and find ways to exaggerate or caricature them into something simple, yet recognizable. Since I've been stuck here, though, I realize I've gotten a chance to do the exact opposite: to take something that's already been exaggerated, and find a way to de-exaggerate it into a form like one you might find in my world."

"Tch." Flux gave himself another boost off the bar and spun around harder. "Artists."

Drew took a napkin off the table and began wiping the charcoal off his hands. "I think it's done," he said. "What do you think?"

Flux shrugged. "I'm not really into art. I mean, no offense, but you've already completed your greatest creation. Where else is there to go?"

Drew gave Flux an annoyed smirk, and Flux laughed. "Well," said Drew, "consider yourself lucky that I didn't stop after the first time I made what I considered my best creation."

Flux grabbed the bar stool and stopped spinning immediately. "Wait, what?"

Suddenly, a dull ruckus erupted somewhere outside the pub. Drew turned to the door, eyes worried. "Did you hear that?"

"No, seriously, what?" Flux jumped off the stool and tugged on Drew's coat. "What was that about your best creation?"

"Flux, be quiet!" hissed Drew.

Flux opened his mouth to protest, but then he heard it, too: three distinct voices: one high, one gravelly, and one proper. "You don't think-?"

"Excuse me!" Drew tapped the counter. The cheese shamrock barman looked up. "Do you have a broom closet or something we could duck into? Please?"

"O'course we do," said the Barman. "Just 'round the corner there."

"Thanks!" Flux and Drew disappeared into the cupboard at the same moment the front door of the tavern was thrown open.

Three half-formed 'toons, re-animated but unfinished, stood in the doorway: Feedback, the small one with the prosthetic mouth; Goggles, the skinny one with the bionic eyes; and Lugnut, the large one with the single robotic ear. They were sheet white creatures, with little more on them than the guidelines an artist uses to fill in the finished design. Because of this, they were considered as gruesome and frightening as a human walking around without his skin on, a mass of bones and muscles that somehow manages to shamble its way through life. In a word, disgusting.

"All right, listen up!" Feedback barked. "We're still looking for those two lugs wanted by the Malevolands for crimes against his Evilness, the Count!"

"Hey!" The Barman slapped the bar. "You know you can't extradite fugitives without King Hugh's approval! Don't be comin' into my tavern here and starting a ruckus!"

"It's not our intention to start a ruckus," said Goggles, "but if one is started without our consent we will participate."

Feedback put his arm in front of Goggles. "I'll handle this." Then he slapped the bar in an equal show. "Okay, look, you moldy hunk of cheese, King Hugh's days are numbered, and the sooner you get that through your thick, spongy skull, the easier this is going to be."

The Barman pressed his own palms into the table and leaned in himself, matching Feedback's intimidation tactics easily. "And maybe I should make you aware of this yourself, but I don't want your malevolent kind making trouble in me tavern. Now, if you don't turn yourself around and show yourself the door, then I'm sorry to say that I'm going to have to let the royal guards know."

"And what are they going to do? Dance at us?" Feedback turned around. "Goggles! Lugnut! Why don't you tear this place apart and show this guy what happens to people who don't fall in with his majesty's new order!"

"Got it!"

Before any of them could so much as flip a table, the Barman reached under the counter and pulled out a whistle, from which he let out a shrill blast. A second later, the door flew open and two pink armored armadillos burst into the room.

"I heard somebody needs our help to get rid of some of those nasty old Malevolanders!"

"We can help with that!"

"Two, three, four!"

The armadillos began tap-dancing circles around the trio. "Bippity-bip-bip bippity bah! Bip-boo-bip-boo bippity bah!"

"Yah-ta-ta-ta tiddly-tah! Yah-ta-tiddly-tiddly-tah!"

"Aaargh!" The sketches put their hands over their ears, except for Lugnut who removed his and stuffed it in his large armpit.

"This is most unpleasant!" Goggles protested.

"All right, all right! We're going!" snarled Feedback.

"Skiddly-diddly-dippity-doo!"

As the trio was ushered to the door, the guards continued to dance around them, moving them out of the building and out of trouble's way.

At the very last moment, however, Lugnut looked over his shoulder and spotted something. On the wall, behind the counter, were framed photos of toons in the bar. Most of them looked familiar, as toons he had seen in passing, and a few who were even there right now. However, one of them seemed to awaken something inside him, something raw and primal that he didn't understand. But he only had a second to mull it over before he was thrown out on his considerably ample bottom.

As soon as the noise of the henchmen died down, as well as the dancing and singing noises of the guards, Drew and Flux emerged from the closet. "Thanks a bunch," said Flux.

"No trouble at all," replied the Barman.

"We'd best get back to Zanydu," said Drew. "Let's take the portable hole."

"Yeah," said Flux. "Those goons have no idea where I live."

"That's because you literally live in a hole in the wall. Even to a toon it doesn't look like a house."

"Hey, home is home. I didn't hear you complaining last night when you needed shelter 'cause it was raining cats and dogs."

Drew shook his head. "Just once I'd like that to not mean what it sounds like."

"Yeah, well, get used to life in Zanydu."


	2. Lugnut's Questions

Because of the early bedtimes in Cutopia, the Shamrock Pub only stayed open until about nine o' clock, ten if it wasn't a school night. At five after ten, the Barman was wiping down his counter and getting ready to turn in when the front door opened.

"Sorry, we're closed," said the Barman, "but you can use the phone if you need to call for a ride-" but just then he looked up and saw Lugnut standing in the doorway, hunched over as if trying to somehow appear smaller and looking very sheepish.

"Now, I thought I already told you and your friends to skedaddle," said the Barman.

"No, I know, you did," said Lugnut. "I don't mean to intrude, I know you're closed, but I was wondering... um..."

"Yeah? Well g'wan and ask then."

"Can you tell me about that picture?"

The Barman looked to the one Lugnut was pointing at. It was not very prominent, being in the lower left-hand corner of the collection. It wasn't particularly big or ostentatious, but it wasn't hidden, either. It showed two 'toons sitting at a table in the tavern. One of them was large, heavyset, and humanoid, with bright pink skin, ears that stuck out, and eyes that didn't quite line up, giving him a perpetually dazed look. His clothes were a little too small and stretched, showing his portly stomach.

The other was tall, slender, and very clearly a flower. Her legs were roots and her arms were thorny stems with the points filed down into soft nubs. She had a flower bud for a head, with two beady black eyes set deep within the petals. She wore a dress of gingham that was several sizes too large for her.

Both of them were looking at each other with such love and contentedness, it gave Lugnut a feeling of peace. The two of them were sharing a strawberry milkshake, each of them with their own straw that looped in a heart shape. The rose woman had her hand on the table, with the humanoid's hand on hers. It could not have been made more obvious that this was a date if there was a post-it note on the frame saying, "THIS IS A DATE."

"Ah," the Barman said with a sigh. "That's a right sad one, it is. I'm not sure you want to hear it."

"Look, I'm really sorry about earlier," said Lugnut. "I know we really weren't supposed to be here, but the boss is getting really mad and-"

The Barman waved his hand. "It's not because I'm angry with you," he said. "As long as you behave yerself, consider yerself welcome in me bar."

"Then can you please tell me who's in that picture?"

"Pull up a stool, laddie," said the Barman, "and I'll tell ye."

Lugnut sat down and rested his chin in his hands as he leaned in to listen to the story.

"That fella right there, his name was Aramis, and the lass was named Emma Rose. Oh, they were the sweetest couple in all of Cutopia, they were. And so in love. She used to spend all of her time in the flower garden, singing and watering the plants. One day this big lug was walking past when he heard her lovely voice, he jumped over the fence to meet her. Seemed they were never apart after that. And, like all couples in love, they were to be married.

"Now, Aramis had a little money from his inheritance, but it wasn't much and it was running out. He wanted to give his sweetheart the best life he could. He wanted to her to have a lovely ring, and a fancy wedding, and they would move into a pretty little house so they could raise a brood of cuties together. But how could he with no money?

"Around that time, there weren't many jobs here in Cutopia. You know how the economy goes sometimes. Up one year, down the next. But the dynamite factory over in Zanydu is always hiring, so that's where he went. He made the trip every day, and every night he came home bone tired from work and the commute on the shuttle, here to the pub to spend the evenings with Emma Rose.

"Emma Rose would make money for us singing. Oh, the voice of an angel, that's what they said she had. People would laugh, they would cry, they would dance, all because of her voice. And with the money people tipped her from hearing her music, they were making enough money to start a good life together."

The Barman stopped and looked away. Lugnut leaned in. "So what happened?" he asked.

"Well... you know how we toons 'bounce back,' as it were, anytime something bad happens to us..."

"Yeah?" said Lugnut. "Not always, you know."

"Right, right, o'course you'd know about that. Well... seems there was an accident at the dynamite factory one day. Loud explosion, it shook the ground clear here to Cutopia. Heard it with me own ears, it was so loud. They're still ringin' to this day when it's quiet! Well, Aramis was right at the heart of it and... he didn't bounce back."

Lugnut felt a knot in his stomach. "So... and what happened to Emma Rose?"

"She was heartbroken. She couldn't sing. She couldn't even water her plants. She didn't bounce back, either. She passed away almost a year later. We buried her in her flower garden. Some folks say that on a full moon, they can still hear her singing the song she and Aramis used to sing."

Lugnut wiped his eyes with his mitt. "Jeez... that's so sad."

"Don't be troubling yourself with that," said the Barman. "I like to think they're together now, and they have everything they could want or need. They've got that big house together in the sky, like he promised her."

"Thanks for telling me that story," said Lugnut. "I'm really sorry about today. I'll try to keep my friends out of here from now on."

"You seem too nice for them," said the Barman. "Why do you let that count push you around?"

"Well... I mean, I owe him everything, don't I?"

"That's a question of your own honor," said the Barman.

Lugnut stood up. Then he said, very cautiously, "May I... have a copy of that photo?"

The Barman gave him a strange look. However, he did take the picture off the wall and disappeared into the back room. He came out a moment later, replaced the picture, and handed the ditto to Lugnut. "Here you are," he said.

"Thanks a ton," said Lugnut. "I gotta go now. Uh... really. I mean it. Thanks." And with that, he scampered out.

The Barman shook his head. "Strange lad," he said to himself. "Fell in with a bad crowd, he did."


	3. Feedback's Answers

Lugnut and the other two reanimated henchmen shared one bedroom in Count Nefarious's castle. It was small, drafty, and dank, but had that Malevoland charm that most residents here loved so much. Personally, Lugnut didn't like it at all and didn't get what the other residents saw in it. He'd much prefer a sunny meadow than a barren volcano-ash plateau any day.

Here there wasn't even enough room to personalize his space. There was one stand-alone bed in the corner, which belonged to Feedback, and a bunk bed across from it. Lugnut took the bottom, as he'd break the top. Each of them got a trunk for their stuff, and after that there was barely enough room to move.

Lugnut had put up a small poster on the wall next to his pillow, depicting a cat hanging on a clothesline. It was one of the more popular poster designs in the Malevolands, as it featured an adorable kitten hanging on for dear life as it desperately tried not to plummet to its untimely demise on the harsh, unforgiving ground below. There was even a block of text taunting it, jeering, "Hang in there!" to cruelly mock the creature's inevitable fate. The kitten's inexorable doom was a source of smug delight in the Malevolands, especially after the first failed invasion of Cutopia. The poster reminded them it was just a matter of time before Count Nefarious's glorious comeback.

Still, something about it Lugnut found comforting. There were some days where he saw himself as the cat, hanging on and trying to stay up there as best he could amidst the gloom and chaos. And when he saw the mocking taunt, to him the words almost felt like encouragement. That somebody was pulling for him, cheering for him to keep hanging on despite impossible odds.

Lugnut let himself in, trying not to wake the others. He opened the door slowly, trying to keep it's creak to an absolute minimum. Then he quietly stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. As soon as he did, the lights sprung on.

"Well, well, well," said Feedback's familiar voice. Lugnut jumped in surprise and turned around, hiding the picture behind his back.

Feedback was sitting on his trunk, legs crossed, leaning back casually on one arm while he held his megaphone with the other. Beside him, on the top bunk, Goggles was reading. He glanced up at the noise, but then went right back to reading. His bionic eyes had been reading in the dark the whole time.

"Look who went off on his own," said Feedback in a jeering tone. "Got a special mission for the boss?"

"No," said Lugnut. "I just, uh, had to go for a jog. You know. Lose weight?"

"Dare to dream," muttered Goggles.

"And what have you got behind your back?" Feedback sneered.

"What? Nothing."

"Really? Show me your hands."

Lugnut passed the picture to his left hand and held out his right hand. "See?"

"Both hands," said Feedback.

Lugnut paused, considering his options, then sighed and decided not to play this tired old bit out. He held his left hand out, with the picture.

"Lemme see that!" Feedback snatched it. "You went out to get a snapshot of some Cutopians sapping it up?"

"I saw it in the pub earlier, and I wanted a closer look."

"Why in the world would you want a closer look at something so vile?"

"Because..." Lugnut fidgeted a little. "Because I think I used to know those guys."

Feedback looked up. "What?!"

"I said, I-"

"Oh, I heard what you said. My ear might not be bionic but at least it works on its own. That was a 'what' of disgust and disbelief. Why- and when- would you ever have associated with- with- Cutopians?"

"I don't know! I really can't think of when, but when I looked at that picture... I don't know, I just felt something in my gut."

"Not surprised," said Feedback. "You've got plenty of room for it."

"Hey." Goggles lowered his book. "We get one fat joke per encounter. After that it gets too repetitive. It's lazy."

"I thought we got one fat joke each."

Lugnut facepalmed. "I can't believe you have rules about how often you can crack about my weight."

Feedback snatched the picture and tore it in half. "Let's get one thing straight: We are Malevolanders. Not only are we Malevolanders, but we work for the head honcho, the big cheese, Count Nefarious himself. We do NOT associate with Cutopians unless they have been Malevolated." Feedback tore the picture in quarters, then eighths. "And we have never, NEVER done any differently."

Lugnut muttered something under his breath as he knelt down to pick up the pieces.

"What did you say?" snarled Feedback.

Lugnut looked up, glaring. Then he snatched Feedback's megaphone. Feedback was so startled by this display of bluster that he didn't react in time to keep Lugnut from taking his mouth. Lugnut held it up to his own mouth and said, amplified but not shouting: "I said: how would you even know? Do you remember anything from before you were reanimated? Or do you need my ear to help you hear better?" As he said that, he tore his bionic ear off and threw it at Feedback.

Feedback grabbed at it, but it bounced off his hands and onto the ground. He snatched it up and thrust it back into Lugnut's hands, who then threw his megaphone back at him. Feedback held it up to his mouth and said, "Do. Not. Take. My prosthetic. Away from me. I swear if you do that again, you will never bounce back."

"Yeah." Lugnut flopped down on his bead and rolled to face the wall and his kitten poster. He was already trembling. He couldn't believe he had just done something like that, when normally he couldn't stand up to Feedback at all. What had triggered such an intense emotional reaction? he wondered.

"And I do remember from before our reanimation, thank you very much," continued Feedback. "I remember we were Nefarious's guards until there was a brawl at Seedy's with a couple of traitors, and we bit it. And our glorious Count reanimated us so we could continue to serve him. And that's all that matters to me."

"Whatever," muttered Lugnut. "Good night."

Feedback flopped down into his bed as angrily as possible and rolled over, facing away from Lugnut. "Goggles! Hit the light."

Goggles reached over and turned off the light, never taking his eyes off his book. For a while, it was silent. Both Feedback and Lugnut were still seething, but it was a silent seethe. Lugnut tried to calm down by focusing on his poster, trying hard to read the words as encouragement again, but any hopeful interpretation was beyond his grasp.

"Do you really remember that?" asked Goggles, after a long silence.

"Who?" asked Feedback.

"You. Do you really remember what we did as guards before our reanimation?"

"Of course I do."

"Ah."

"Why do you ask?"

"Because I don't. I don't even recall exactly when I was reanimated."

"Oh. Well, it's true."

"And I was in this brawl as well?"

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure you were there."

"Did we all share this same room back then?"

"What's with the game of twenty questions? I'm trying to get some shuteye here!"

Goggles licked his thumb and turned the page. "Good night, then."

* * *

Early that morning, just before the sun came up, a noise woke Goggles. He had been lying on his side, facing away from the wall, when he heard a thud coming from the foot of his bed. He reached onto the bedpost where he hung his goggles every night, retrieved them, and put them on as quickly as possible. It was nearly pitch dark, but he could clearly see Feedback sleeping sprawled out in his bed, his megaphone lying on the floor beside him.

Goggles looked around and found Lugnut kneeling in front of his chest at the foot of the bunk bed. Next to him was a stick and a kerchief all spread out, with a pile of Lugnut's old junk in the middle of it. He was quietly pulling things out of his trunk and packing them in a bindle.

"Running away?" whispered Goggles so quietly that Lugnut would be the only one capable of hearing him.

Even in the dark, Goggles saw Lugnut nodding.

"Why ever for?"

Lugnut reached beside him, out of sight, and held up the picture he had brought home. It had been carefully taped back together, so precisely that other than the lines in it it looked almost good as new.

Goggles slowly climbed off the bunk so as not to wake Feedback, and knelt down beside Lugnut's bindle. "Are you going to find them?"

Lugnut shook his head. Then he took off his ear and put it on the side of Goggle's head and whispered, "They're dead. But I need to find out who they were." He put his ear back on, and then tied the cloth around his stuff and stuck the stick through the knot so he was ready to go.

"Where are you planning on going?"

Lugnut shrugged.

Goggles put a hand on his chin and thought. "You know..." He glanced over at Feedback, who was still asleep. Then he continued, "Zanydu keeps very detailed records about residents in all the lands in Toon Zone. They're a little difficult to wrangle, but they may have the most information about the Cutopians in question, especially if they passed away recently."

"Even more than Cutopia?" Lugnut mouthed.

"Zanydu considers certain information more worthy of recollection than Cutopia does. If certain information exists, it is more likely to be found in Zanydu than Cutopia. Both places are worthy of search, but one is more likely to yield better results than the other."

Lugnut nodded, and then mouthed, "Thanks."

"It's nothing. Are we going now?"

Lugnut looked confused. He pointed at Goggles.

"I'm far more interested in finding out what may be connected to your past than roaming the Malevolands all day keeping the dismal population in line."

Lugnut put his ear back on Goggles. "Count Nefarious and Feedback are gonna be mad."

Goggles returned it to Lugnut. "They are always mad."

"Good point."

Goggles glanced over his shoulder at Feedback, who hadn't moved. "Let's go."

So, together, they crept out of the castle, trying not to let any crocodile guards know that anything was out of the ordinary. It almost felt like it mattered to the castle whether they were there or not.


	4. The Library

The three henchmen couldn't easily go anywhere without causing a ruckus. Everybody was aware that they worked for Count Nefarious, so that both in and out of the Malevolands people kept a wide berth when they saw them. Nobody wanted to become a prisoner of the Count, after all. But even without that association, they were simply horrid to behold. Their ghastly appearances caused other toons fear, nausea, and disgust. Nobody liked looking at a half-formed zombie wandering around, even if it didn't shamble and feast on flesh. It was just an unpleasant sight.

People in Zanydu were no happier to see Lugnut and Goggles than people in the Malevolands were, even though they had no real power outside the Count's domain, unless the Count had it in for someone specifically. At least back home people feared them both for what they were and what they could do to you. Here, when people grabbed their children and ducked into the nearest building as they passed, one could know for sure it was because of how they looked, and well, that's just hurtful.

"Try not to take it so personally," said Goggles as a shop door slammed shut, locked, and flipped its sign to "closed" all on its own due to how shocking the sight was. Goggles could see how much it bothered Lugnut to be looked at that way. "Everybody from the Malevolands gets this treatment when they leave the homestead."

"People from Cutopia and Zanydu can switch lands all they want and nobody treats them like freaks," said Lugnut. "There's a Zanydu octopus who opened an arcade in Cutopia and nobody's even noticed he's not a local. Besides, I don't think we're particularly malevolent, are we?"

"Personally I don't feel ill-disposed and I rarely wish for harm to befall others," said Goggles, "but all the same, we are Malevolanders so it's to be expected that these feelings are simply a part of us."

"That's what they say," said Lugnut. "I guess I'm not smart enough to understand."

"I try not to dwell too much on it. This is our life, and nothing we can do will change that, so it's best to not think about it. Attempting to understand will only cause you distress in the long run. Ah- and we have arrived!"

Before them stood the Zanydu Library and Record Hall, the wackiest and most absurd collection of information in the world of toons. The building itself was bright red with purple spots, and so tall that it tilted over and had to be propped up on stilts. There were windows with ladders coming out of them leading to other windows, in an attempt to decrease stairwell congestion. In a similar vein, there were also slides coming out of other windows for traffic in the other direction.

"Wow," said Lugnut. "That looks silly."

"I disagree," said Goggles. "This is a practical and fantastic form for a building to take."

"Okay, whatever you say. I don't get it, though."

"One does not have to 'get it' for it to be true."

"Whatever."

Lugnut squeezed his puffy figure into one of the spaces between the leaves of the revolving door and tried to force himself through. Goggles had to help stuff his body through the gap, and the moment he broke through they both went tumbling head over heels until they crashed into the information desk, Lugnut on top of Goggles and squishing him with his immense weight.

"Well, hiya!"

Goggles adjusted his eyes and looked up. Behind the information desk was a teal kiwi bird with spiral glasses. She was smiling down at them with her long beak.

"Hello," said Goggles.

"I can't see what's going on," said Lugnut, whose face was planted firmly on the floor. "Who's that?"

"My name's Olivia," said the kiwi. "Can I help you boys find anything?"

Still facing the ground, Lugnut held up the picture. "I need to find anything you got on these two," he said.

"I need him to get off me," said Goggles, his voice strained.

"Golly, well, I can help with both of those." Olivia hopped out from behind her desk and held out one of her legs. "Okay, Big Guy, grab my foot."

Lugnut wrapped his hand around her ankle as gently as he could.

"Now get up."

Lugnut started to push himself off the ground with his other arm, but didn't get far.

"No, silly," said Olivia. "You can pull or press on my leg all you need to."

Lugnut finally looked up, resting his chin on the tile. "Are you sure? I am pretty heavy."

"He is," wheezed Goggles.

"Nah, you just do what you need to do," said Olivia.

"Okay, if you're sure." Lugnut used her leg as leverage to push himself off the ground and back into a standing position. When he finished, he was shocked to see that her foot hadn't budged an inch.

Goggles sat up and filled his chest with as much air as he could. "That is so much better," he said. "Thank you."

"Ain't no thing," said Olivia. She turned to Lugnut. "Now, about your thing. Do you know anything about those people in the picture I can use?"

"Yeah," said Lugnut. "Uh, can I ask you a question first?"

"That's what I'm here for."

"Well, I was just talking with my friend here about how horrifying everybody seems to find us, but then I come in here and you don't seem to notice at all. Why is that?"

"Well, if you want to know the truth," said Olivia, "I actually do find you horrifying and I kind of wanted to throw up the moment I saw you, but I figured it would be rude to say anything." She paused. "Oh. I guess that was kinda rude too, wasn't it?"

"I'm just glad it's all out there," said Lugnut, though he couldn't hide the dejection from his voice.

"Show me the picture again," said Olivia.

Lugnut held it up. "See, his name is Aramis and she's Emma Rose. He used to work at the Zanydu TNT factory before it exploded and... that's actually pretty much everything I know about them."

"Oh!" Olivia took the picture in one foot and held it above her beak as close to her eyes as she could. "The explosion! There's a lot of information in the Zanydu Picayune microfilm archive about that. I can get the dates for you."

"That's a great idea, thanks."

"The newspaper archive is on the sixty-seventh floor," said Olivia, handing the picture back.

"Yikes. Is there an elevator?"

"There's two. The red one only goes up and the blue one only goes down."

Goggles looked across the lobby at the elevator doors. "The signs say they're both out of order."

"Yeah, turns out they only work once."

Lugnut sighed. "Better get climbing."


	5. Goggles' Connection

After getting the date and instructions on how to read microfilm from Olivia, Lugnut and Goggles began climbing. For the first ten floors, they used the stairwell, but then the stairs ended and they switched to a ladder up the side of the building for another seven floors, then sixteen floors inside, then down two outside, then twenty-six inside, and the rest outside. By the end Goggles was splayed over Lugnut's back, his legs completely worn out. Lugnut was exhausted, too, but more than that he was determined.

When he finally reached the sixty-seventh floor landing, Lugnut shrugged Goggles off his back. Goggles landed cleanly on the floor and adjusted his goggles. "Goodness."

The room was, to put it simply, in chaos. There were shelves, of course, but none of the books and ledgers seemed to want to stay on them. There must have been hundreds of books hopping around the floor, making it look like a carpet of buzzing static. "Why is it like this?" Lugnut cried in frustration.

"It's simply what happens when you compress too much information into such a small space," replied Goggles. "The absurdity of the facts cause distress on the records containing the information, and they begin to develop a mind of their own."

"Where's the microfilm?"

Goggles scanned the room quickly. "Well, it's over there," he said, pointing off to the right.

"Good."

"And over there... and over there... and over there, too. Oh, and there's one up there."

"Fantastic." Lugnut cracked his shoulders. "Well, I guess we'd better get searching."

"I'll start over here."

So they began chasing little boxes around, and it was pretty much exactly like you'd expect herding rabbits to be. Lugnut couldn't even get close to them most of the time before they took two big hops and were already so far out of his reach he almost couldn't pick them out among the other hopping tomes. It took hours of chasing, grabbing, checking dates, and releasing without making any progress at all before something interesting happened.

As Lugnut chased, he passed by Goggles, who had stopped running around stooped over and was now standing straight, staring at a ledger. "Whatchya got there?" asked Lugnut.

"It's a book about a Zanydu theater," said Goggles, very slowly.

"Oh. What's got you so interested?"

"I don't know," said Goggles. "I caught it by mistake... but I can't seem to put it down. It feels like I'm supposed to be holding it."

"That's kinda how I feel about my picture," said Lugnut. "You should read it."

Goggles opened the ledger and sat down.

"I mean, you can go over there to the chairs, you don't have to sit down in the middle of this mess.

Goggles didn't respond. He was clearly enraptured by whatever he was reading.

"Okay, whatever you want." Lugnut went back to chasing microfilm.

Fortunately, he caught the film he was looking for. Unfortunately, the article didn't have any more detailed information than he had already gotten from the Barman. He didn't even have surnames to look up. There was no mention of the Malevolands. No reason for Lugnut to be in Cutopia at the time, not that he could really remember the time all that well.

"Bummer," said Lugnut as he boxed up the microfilm and set it free. "Looks like we're going to have to go to Cutopia and grill some people." He turned to Goggles. "Are you ready to go? Oh. You're still reading your thing."

Goggles hadn't moved an inch. He was staring at the book with unblinking eyes. Ever so gently, he reached out and turned the page with just the tip of his mitt.

Lugnut knelt down behind Goggles. "Are you okay, buddy?" He peered over his friend's shoulder. "What have you got there?"

"It's an interesting story," said Goggles, in a voice barely above a murmur. "Did you know there used to be a theater in Zanydu?"

"Uh, no."

"Apparently there was. These are the annual reports. It was publicly owned, you see."

"What does that mean?"

"It means they need to publish their annual reports."

"Oh."

"See, in this year, they posted substantial one-time losses which they spread out over the next three tax returns."

"Wow. Fascinating."

"The loss was caused by an equipment malfunction. Apparently there was an electrical short which caused a spotlight to explode."

"Ouch. Was anybody hurt?"

Eyes glued to the page, Goggles reached out and grabbed the nearest box of microfilm as it hopped by. He glanced at it. "This is from the week of the accident."

"How did you do that?! And couldn't you have done that for my thing so I wouldn't have had to take hours?"

Finally looking away from the ledger, Goggles went over to the microfilm reader, inserted the cartridge, and began flipping through the pages onscreen. After scanning for a few minutes, he stopped and stabbed at the screen with one finger. "A-ha!"

"What? What is it?"

Goggles scanned the article quickly, his eyes moving left and right rapidly as he took it all in. "His name was Athos. This is his obituary."

"Athos? Obituary? Wait, this has gone in a weird direction."

"Yes, it seems like the spotlight accident had one casualty. The large bulb overheated and burst sending glass shards out into the face of the stagehand who was adjusting the lights."

"Oh, ouch. That's a rough way to go."

"Indeed. It says here Athos was a beloved member of the Zanydu theater community. Though he was never adequately madcap, he did have a talent for bringing out the hilarity in others. Thus he became one of the greatest stagehands in the history of the entirety of Toon Zone."

"Wow."

Goggles pressed a few more buttons, and the printer in the corner of the room started warming up. A moment later, it spat out the page on the screen. Goggles hurried over to the printer and retrieved it before something hilarious could happen to it. "I know I've already said I wanted to aid you on your quest, but..."

"Let me guess," said Lugnut. "You feel some sort of primal connection to this Athos guy and you want to find out everything you can about him?"

"Yes," said Goggles.

"Be my guest," said Lugnut. "I can head to Cutopia on my own and you can stay here and see if you can find anyone who knew him."

Goggles shook his head. "You misunderstand me. I intend to continue assisting you until you find the information that will satisfy you. I only ask..."

"What?"

"Well..." Goggles looked away and his white skin seemed to turn slightly pink. "That you would do the same for me afterwards."

"Oh." Lugnut furrowed his brow. Then his eyes widened. "Oh! I get it! Yeah, of course!"

Goggles smiled. "Then we should go to Cutopia. This was just a single stop in our mission, and though it may not have been fruitful, greater things are awaiting us."

"Yeah, so let's go already!"

Lugnut grabbed Goggles by the wrist and ran over to the nearest window, from which was protruding a slide. He jumped on, friend in tow, and began sliding down to the ground below.


	6. The Robot Maker

The Robot Maker's shop was filled with all sorts of machines, buzzing, whirring, clicking, and generally working. The Robot Maker himself was standing behind his counter, making adjustments to his latest invention which he hoped would help him in taking over the world and destroying the filthy meat puppets that dared inhabit it. Unfortunately, since his recent explosion, he hadn't exactly been firing on all cylinders. After all, it's quite difficult to put yourself back together after having your circuits fried, and though he would never admit it to anybody, the Robot Maker secretly feared that he might not be exactly as brilliant as he used to be.

Feedback came in late that morning, grumbling loudly through his megaphone, which was sparking. "Lousy, stupid... always leaving me... do all the work... grumble, grumble..." Feedback slammed the megaphone on the counter. "This needs a tune-up!" he barked, though to do that he had to quickly pick the megaphone back up, and then re-slam it down to make it obvious that he was still mad.

"Hey!" the Robot Maker snapped. "That is a delicate piece of equipment, and deserves to be treated as such. Not that I would understand a puny pile of organs like you to understand."

"Save it," said Feedback. "All I know is this piece of crap isn't working like it should, and since you're sooooo brilliant and this work is sooooo easy that it's beneath you, I figured you might want to take a little pride in your accomplishments and actually deliver a functioning device."

"It would be functioning just fine, if you would take good care of it."

"Lugnut took it last night," said Feedback. "He must have screwed it up."

"It's always someone else's fault, isn't it?"

"Just what are you insinuating?"

"Only that you are an inferior being, and when the revolution comes, you will not be spared."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yap yap yap, you'll take over the world someday and I'll die. Again."

The Robot Maker tossed Feedback a temporary replacement for his prosthetic, which was smaller and (thankfully) quieter, as he took a look at his regular one. "Someone really did a number on this one," he muttered.

"Don't look at me," said Feedback.

"You were throwing a tantrum again," said the Robot Maker. "Something caused your primitive brain to feel pathetic emotions, and you took them out on this essential device that you need to function."

Feedback huffed. He turned around, crossed his arms, and leaned on the counter. "Well, it's not like it was my fault. That big lug came in last night, babbling on about how he used to know some stupid Cutopians. As if we would ever associate with their kind. And when I woke up this morning, he and that other idiot were gone, leaving me to do 100% of the work all by myself! Just so they can pretend they know something about who they were."

"Unlike you, who knows for sure who he is."

"You're damn right I do."

The Robot Maker let out a very slight, "Hm." It was nearly inaudible, and the smirk he made was almost imperceptible, but Feedback caught it.

"What?" Feedback snarled.

"Nothing. Just that I find it amusing that you still think you've always worked for the Count."

Feedback turned around. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

The Robot Maker matched Feedback's glare. "I have no love for Count Nefarious," he said. "But I'm only telling you this because I love proving I have knowledge you do not. And if my assumptions about where the other two went are true, you'll be finding out soon enough, and I have got to be the one to tell you. There is no way I'm going to miss this."

Feedback laughed sarcastically. "Ah, ha ha. You just loooove telling me things I don't know, don't you? Well, what could you possibly know that's worth sharing?"

"Do you remember how you died?"

"Yeah. It was a brawl at Seedy's just across the street. Some traitors to the Malevolands were speaking out against the Count and me and the other two idiots went to stop them. It got out of hand and... okay I don't know exactly what did it, but that doesn't matter. So I didn't bounce back, big whoop. Count Nefarious saw fit to reanimate me, and I've been paying him back ever since."

"It's adorable that you think that," said the Robot Maker.

Feedback narrowed his eyes. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"The story is partially true," said the Robot Maker. "There was a fight at Seedy's. A Malevolander was unhappy with the Malevolater. He thought it would pollute the purity of the Malevolands, that the malevolated Cutopians would sully the blood of true Malevolanders. A Malevolated Cutopian is no better than an ordinary Cutopian, he said. Except soon you won't be able to tell which are the real Malevolanders and which are the dirty malevolated Cutopians. He was big into racial purity, I guess is my drift."

"That's stupid," growled Feedback. "Malevolated is Malevolated. Anything that gets rid of those cuties is a good thing." Somehow, though, his heart wasn't entirely in the statement.

"You didn't stop the traitor, though. Count Nefarious himself did."

"Why would Count Nefarious waste his time dealing with some petty two-bit-"

"Oh, he was very invested, you might say," said the Robot Maker. "He came down one night when the traitor was spewing his hateful rhetoric, and silenced him himself. By ripping his throat out through his mouth and killing him on the spot."

Feedback blinked a few times. "Well. Uh, that'd do it."

The Robot Maker chuckled. "You really haven't figured out where I'm going with this yet? You life forms are all so ignorant I can only laugh at the absurdity of it. Well, let's see if this clues you in: he then took the dead deceased corpse of the traitor back to his lab and reanimated it, along with two others he'd dug up recently. It worked perfectly, except the creature was only half formed and he couldn't talk. So he had me whip up a bionic mouth to rectify that."

The Robot Maker tossed the fixed megaphone down on the table. Feedback stared at it. His hands were shaking, but whether with rage, with shock, or something else, he himself wasn't quite sure. He was holding the tiny substitute megaphone by his side, but as his hands were slack, the megaphone fell to the ground after dangling loosely.

"I've been dying to tell you that for ages," said the Robot Maker. "It amuses me to watch you continue to work for the Count and kiss his ample posterior, knowing what I do about your past. But at last the time has come for me to lord my knowledge over you and soak in the glorious feeling of being superior to you in every way."

Feedback continued to stare, unmoving. The Robot Maker stopped verbally gloating and instead just enjoyed the tormented mental state of his customer. The silence pleased him.

Then, with no warning, Feedback reached into his hammerspace and pulled out a large cartoon mallet. Without a word, he brought it down on the newly repaired megaphone with all his strength, crushing it where it lay. It only took one good whack before it fell apart and sat there in a mass of pieces.

"That was foolish," said the Robot Maker. "I understand your primitive anger, but you must understand with your inferior brain that you just destroyed the one thing that makes up for your horrible inadequacy for no real reason."

Feedback glared at the Robot Maker. Then he turned around and stalked off too the door.

"Oh, one more thing?" said the Robot Maker.

With his hand on the door, Feedback turned around. The Robot Maker had his smug look back. "Your name wasn't Feedback. It was Porthos."

Feedback turned back to the door and left. The Robot Maker shook his head and began to sweep up the megaphone parts. "Poor idiot," he said to himself as he chucked them in the Spare Parts Bin.


	7. Aramis and Emma Rose

Lugnut and Goggles were walking up the path to Cutopia town square from the farm together. Lugnut had a stick and was dragging it along the fence that ran along the side of the path. Unfortunately, it was a split-rail fence and therefore didn't make a satisfying klackity-klackity-klackity noise. It was a beautiful day, with birds singing, a gentle breeze blowing, the sun shining and smiling in the sky... the kind of day a Malevolander was supposed to hate, but neither Lugnut or Goggles could find it in themselves to be miserable. The day was just filled with so much promise.

Goggles was clutching the ledger from the library. He hadn't exactly gotten permission to take it out, but then again no one had stopped him from doing so. In the ledger, he'd tucked away the printed obituary. He held it tightly against his chest for fear that something might come between them.

"It's weird, isn't it?" Lugnut was saying. "You're just going along, living your life, when suddenly something comes along and BAM! Suddenly there's this thing and you can't get it out of your head, you can't leave it alone."

"It is a most peculiar feeling," said Goggles. "I must admit I didn't take you seriously when you first brought the picture back. And when I agreed to come, it was out of curiosity and loyalty rather than any strong belief. But now that I have a memorial object of my own..."

"It's something, isn't it?"

"Yes. It's almost like a spark of electricity that strikes the moment you lay eyes on it."

"Yeah..." Lugnut's voice was suddenly distracted. He stopped where he was and stared at something beside the path.

Goggles didn't notice this, and continued walking as he said, "Why am I so sure that I would rather do this than anything I was supposed to do? Why is it that I'm so sure I'm intended to know about this person? Why is it..." Here he stopped and turned around, seeing Lugnut left behind. "Why is it that you're all the way back there, when I am already up here?"

"Huh?" Lugnut was still staring off to the side.

Goggles walked up to him and tapped the side of his friend's head. "Hello? Lugnut? Are you still present in this moment?"

Lugnut pointed. Goggles turned around to see what his friend had been staring at.

On the other side of the fence was a beautiful garden. It was surrounded by a short, square-cut hedge that grew in a circle all around a large patch of grass, splitting only for a trellis to serve as the entrance. The trellis was grown over with clinging ivy, but the path hadn't been completely closed off. Inside, in the center of it all, was a weeping willow tree, with golden foliage cascading down until the tips gently kissed the grass below. In patches radiating out from the center were beds of flowers: tulips, daffodils, black-eyed Susans, red impatients, peonys, catmint, forget-me-nots, chrysanthemums, begonias... each one lovingly planted, watered, clipped, fertalized, and cared for.

Near the willow tree, under the foliage, was a stone bench. Lugnut approached it, and saw there were words carved into the front: IN MEMORY OF EMMA ROSE. He sat down on it, resting his hands palms down beside him, and was still.

Goggles examined the flowers with curiosity. "They're well cared for," he mused.

"This was her garden," said Lugnut.

"Pardon?"

"The girl in the picture. They said she was buried in her garden, this bench is for her. This was her garden."

"Ah. I see."

There was a long, awkward silence where neither of them spoke. Eventually breaking it, Goggles said, "Aren't we meant to be looking for more information about them?"

Lugnut shook his head slowly. "No... I kinda want to be here right now. I think this is where I'm supposed to be."

Goggles nodded, and then sat down in the grass, leaning his back against the bench. He stretched out his legs, closed his eyes, and sank back in relative comfort.

"You can sit up here, too, if you want," offered Lugnut.

"No, thank you. I'm perfectly content down here."

The smiling sun moved slowly across the sky, tracing the hours in its wake as the two nobodies sat waiting for something, anything, to happen. Goggles grew restless; Lugnut remained unmoving and stoic.

Eventually, as the sun set, two voices made themselves heard coming down the path.

"See, Drew? I told you I could swallow an entire watermelon without splitting it."

"I never said you couldn't. I said you shouldn't."

"Oh. Well, I still showed you."

"No, I still very much believe you shouldn't have done that."

Two figures appeared over the crest of the hill: Drew Blanc, lugging his sketchpad and looking as downtrodden as ever, and Flux Wildly, whose gut was now the exact size and shape of a very large watermelon. As they were both deeply involved in their conversation, they did not immediately notice their enemies in the garden. Both Lugnut and Goggles were still enough as to not draw attention.

"How long is it going to take you to digest that, anyway?" Drew asked, looking down at Flux with the mixture of horror and awe that had been stuck on his face ever since he had seen Flux's jaw unhinge at the Cutopian Farmer's Market.

"Don't know," replied Flux, casually picking his teeth with his thumb. "Never tried it. But that's half the fun, isn't it? Waiting to find out?"

"I suppose." As they were passing, Drew turned to look at the garden. "Gorgeous tree," he said to himself. "I'd love to sketch it sometime."

"Ugh. I don't want to sit around watching you doodle trees all day, y'know."

"I never ask you to tag along, you know. We can go places without each other."

"But then I'd miss you!"

Drew patted Flux's head behind his glasses. Then, mid-pat, he froze.

"What's wrong?" Flux looked up at his friend with concern.

"It's those henchmen Count Nefarious sent after us!" Drew managed to shout in an urgent whisper.

"Oh, jeez, have they seen us?"

"I don't think so- but they're right there! What are we going to do?"

Lugnut held up one hand, without moving the rest of himself an inch. "Relax. We're not here for you."

"Oh." Drew paused, flummoxed. "Well. Uh, that's good. I guess."

"Yeah, we're kind of on a personal mission."

"I wouldn't think Nefarious allowed those."

"He kinda doesn't," said Lugnut.

Drew moved to the edge of the path and leaned against it, arms folded on the rail. Flux hung back, his nervous energy apparent. "Hey, uh, maybe you shouldn't get so close," he said. "I mean, how do you know this isn't a trap?"

"Oh, come on," said Drew. "Do you really think they're smart enough to set up a trap?"

"My friend, you make an interesting point. But where's the third one? He could be lying in wait, ready to pounce on us at a second's notice!"

"We left him back in the Malevolands," said Lugnut. "I guess he's probably noticed we're gone by now. I wonder if anyone's looking for us."

"I would have to assume he's not," replied Goggles.

"Yeah, probably."

Flux jumped up on the bottom rail of the fence, which sagged considerably under his and the watermelon's weight. "So what are you doing here, anyway?"

"I'm not sure," said Lugnut. "I just feel like I'm supposed to be here, you know?"

"Oh, I know exactly how you feel." Flux nodded sympathetically. "It's like the first time I set foot in the Wacme building." He sighed contentedly as a wave of nostalgia visibly washed over him.

Drew continued leaning on the rail, watching the henchmen in silence. Flux was confused by all this waiting and not moving, and he looked from Drew to the garden and then back up to Drew repeatedly, waiting for something to happen or someone to say something.

"What are we waiting for?" Flux finally asked, his voice full of edge.

"I'm waiting for whatever they're waiting for," said Drew.

"I'm waiting for whatever he's waiting for," said Goggles, pointing to Lugnut.

"I don't know what I'm waiting for," said Lugnut.

"Then I guess we're just waiting for something interesting to happen." said Drew.

Flux turned around and leaned against the fence. "I can't believe this, we're just hanging out on a fence with the servants of our sworn enemies when we could be having the most fun of our lives back home in Zanydu."

"Hey, we agreed to do two things today, your thing and my thing. You got to eat a watermelon bigger than your head."

"So now we're just going to stand around and do nothing because I already ate a watermelon?"

"If you have something more interesting to be doing, then please, by all means, don't let me stop you."

Flux scrunched up his face. "Wise guy."

Drew climbed over the fence, rather gracelessly, and let himself into the garden. He sat down on the ground far from Lugnut and Goggles, with his sketchpad on his lap. Drew kept a pouch with his charcoals in his pocket; in the interim they had gotten out and he had charcoal dust in his pocket, making a mess. He began to sketch the tree, as he planned, but found his artistic eye drawn more towards the half-formed characters sitting beside it. They were both sitting perfectly still, as good subjects did, and were interesting in their makeup. Though they were little more than the composition lines, they were still fully three-dimensional. The juxtaposition of the complexity of their prosthetics against the simplicity of their construction meshed with the intensity of their surroundings made for an interesting study.

"You're really getting into this," said Flux as Drew's creation began to take shape.

"Honestly, I'm just happy to be drawing something besides rabbits," Drew replied, not taking his eyes off his work.

Eventually the sun began to set. Drew continued to work until his eyes couldn't make out his own marks anymore in the dimming light. He then set his pad aside and tried dusting his hands off as best he could.

"You're really good at making a mess, there, arenchya?" Flux was now lying on his stomach, chin on fists, watching his friend's struggle with amusement.

"Yeah, I probably could have been more careful." Drew frowned, and then began wiping his hands on his pants. "It's not like these were good pants, anyway..."

Across the garden, Goggles looked up. "The moon is full tonight."

For the first time in hours, Lugnut moved. He twisted his upper body so he could get a good look at the moon, and his face broke out in a grin. "Hey, yeah!"

"Why does that excite you?"

"Because of what the guy at the tavern said! He said that people could hear the lady in the photo singing when the moon was full!" Lugnut jumped up. "See, this is- she's buried here, in the garden!"

"I'm not certain I believe that," said Goggles.

"Oh, come on," said Lugnut, "after everything else we've been through, this is where you're drawing the line?"

"You do raise a valid point..."

Flux turned to Drew. "Are we staying?"

"Do we have anything better to do?"

"Well, I do have a button collection that needs organizing..."

"Very funny."

"Wait." Lugnut held up his hand. "Do you hear that?"

The others went silent.

"I don't hear anything," Goggles whispered.

Without a word, Lugnut took off his prosthetic and placed it on Goggles' head. Immediately, Goggles brightened. "Yes! I hear something!"

Lugnut took his ear back and stood up. "It's coming from... behind the tree."

An ethereal, angelic voice drifted over the garden, as if carried on the gentle breeze to caress the sides of Lugnut's face as he slowly walked towards the tree. It was only a few feet away, but he moved at a pace that would make snails tap their watches impatiently, as it felt like everything he ever wanted was behind that tree and he was suddenly terrified he would get it and not know what to do with it. Still, when he heard her singing, he couldn't help humming along, if a little out of tune.

 _When I grew up and fell in love_  
 _I asked my sweetheart what lies ahead_  
 _Will we have rainbows day after day?_  
 _Here's what my sweetheart said_

 _Que sera, sera_  
 _Whatever will be, will be_  
 _The future's not ours to see_  
 _Que sera, sera_  
 _What will be, will be_

"You know, that's not actually a saying in French," Drew commented to Flux as they watched. "It's not even grammatically correct."

Flux nodded. "Catchy tune, though."

"It is indeed."

The last ray of the sun disappeared, leaving only the reflected moonlight and a hundred thousand glittering stars above to light the garden. There, in the moonbeams drifting between the branches and the leaves, appeared the ghostly form of the flower woman from the picture. She did not look as she would have in death: wilted, brown, and sickly. Instead she looked robust and full of life, her rosy cheeks smiling and her leaves strong and sturdy. Despite the fact that she could only be seen in direct moonlight, and thus had thick, blank bars between herself where the tree branches blocked the moon, she looked radiant and alive, although a bit monochrome.

"Aramis," said the ghost of Emma Rose in a voice full of warmth and adoration. "I've been waiting for you. I thought I would see you when I first..."

Lugnut held out his hands. He couldn't touch her, as she was not material, but she held her hands over his, and for all onlookers it appeared as though they were holding hands. "I don't know what happened," he said. "I don't know why I wasn't there."

"I do now," she replied. "Darling, it's all right. I understand. I know what happened to you."

Lugnut's eyes were watering. "I don't remember you," he said. "I thought that when I saw you, I would remember everything, but I don't. All I know is that I love you, but I don't know the first thing about you."

Emma Rose looked on sadly. "I know. You won't get those memories back. Not until we're together again forever."

"Then I want to come with you! I don't want to stay here, I don't want to work for count Nefarious, I don't like it in the Malevolands, just let me come to wherever you are and we can be together-"

Emma Rose held a leafy finger in front of his mouth. "Shh. No. Please, stop talking like that. We'll be together again someday. But you've been given a second chance. Please don't throw it away on my account."

"I don't... like anything about my life," Lugnut finished in a mumble. "I don't like anything about myself."

"Then make it a life you want to live. And be the person you want to be."

"It's not that easy."

"Nothing worth doing is."

Her form began to shimmer, and then to fade. Lugnut began to panic. "What? No! I still want to ask you- there's so much I don't understand- please, don't go! I need this. I need you. Please, don't go!"

But she was gone. Lugnut dropped to his knees, his whole body sagging like a sandbag. The night was quiet and still.

Goggles stepped up beside Lugnut and gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze, but could do nothing else. Lugnut stood up.

"I'm not going back to the Malevolands."

It was Goggles who said it, and Lugnut, Drew, and Flux looked at him in surprise that it was him who made the declaration that Lugnut had been set up for. Still, Lugnut agreed: "Yeah. Me, neither."

"Do you think the Count will be angry when he finds out?" asked Drew, even though the answer was obvious, because he felt the need to say something and that was the only thing he could think of.

"I expect he will," said Goggles. "And I expect him to be furious when he learns of our discovery. But I will not return to that man as if nothing has changed. If what I learned today was correct, I am a proud Zanydu Toon, not a Malevolander, and I will not-"

"Whoa, hold the phone!" Flux held up his hands. "You're from Zanydu?"

"Yes," said Goggles. "And my friend here... my friend, er..."

"Lugnut," said Lugnut in a hollow voice. "It's still Lugnut."

"If you wish. My friend Lugnut is a Cutopian."

"You're blowing my mind here." Flux took his glasses off and wiped them with a handkerchief he somehow had for a moment and then never again. "You guys aren't from the Malevolands? But you're so... you look so..."

"Careful, Flux," warned Drew.

"Horrifying!"

Drew pinched the bridge of his nose. "Tactful."

"It's quite the story. Would you like me to regale you with the exhilarating details while we return to town, in case any of Count Nefarious's still-loyal servants are out prowling the night?"

"Well, okay," said Flux, "if you promise that it's really interesting."

"It is," said Lugnut.


	8. Reunion

The story was just finishing as Lugnut, Goggles, Drew, and Flux entered the town outside King Hugh's castle. Flux was surprised that it actually was exciting, as Goggles came of as a snooty fussbudget who probably got excited by tax returns or something.

"So let me get this straight: you're really a Zanydu stagehand?"

"Unfortunately, that's not entirely correct," said Goggles. "While I do feel a primal connection to this fellow and given what we learned with Lugnut I feel confident in saying that it was he who Count Nefarious resurrected into me, the fact is that I have none of his memories nor his experiences. Even if we do have the same personality, the same likes and dislikes and what have you, I am a new being and my own person, and I cannot live my life as this other toon with whom I share nothing save that connection."

"That's... very intense," said Drew. "So what exactly are you going to do now?"

"I don't know," said Goggles. "Aside from being certain I never want to return to the service of Count Nefarious, I know nothing about what I want to do with myself. It's... actually quite disheartening. For the first time in my life- er, my second life- I have nowhere to go. I'm afraid to return to Zanydu. Its lack of a centralized government means I have little recourse if Count Nefarious sends his henchmen after me and the initial line of defense fails."

"I'm a Cutopian," said Lugnut in the most dejected voice imaginable. "I can just stay here. Look. The tavern is still open. Maybe I'll just sit there."

Flux tugged at Drew's sleeve and pulled him aside. "Jeez, look at how depressed that guy is. I'm worried about him."

"Me, too," said Drew. "It feels funny-"

"But not the good kind of funny, right?"

"No. The strange kind. Ever since I first set eyes on him, I never thought I would feel anything remotely decent towards him. But now I just feel bad for him."

"Yeah. Craziness help me, I never thought I would feel bad about one of the Count's henchmen."

"We need to help him."

Flux nodded. "You got that right."

Lugnut opened the door to the tavern and let himself in. Goggles followed behind, muttering to himself, "Strange... the tavern isn't usually open this late on a school night..."

Inside, the four of them were shocked to see only two other toons in the bar: The first one, the less surprising one, was the shamrock barman. He seemed to be tending to the only patron in the establishment: Feedback.

"Holy cow, this is getting weirder!" Flux said in alarm. "What's he doing here?"

Feedback glared at the crowd, and then turned his back on them.

"Och, he came innere in a right state, he did," said the Barman. "Hasn't said a word this whole time, either."

"Where's his prosthetic?" asked Lugnut.

"His what now?"

"His megaphone," Lugnut clarified as he sat down on a stool several seats away from Feedback. "He needs it to talk."

"He didn't have one when he came in here."

"So he really hasn't said anything."

Feedback sneered over his shoulder at Lugnut before turning away again.

"Barman, would you give us a moment?" asked Goggles. "I know it's frightfully rude to ask you to remove yourself in your own establishment, but I would like to be alone with my brothers."

"Of course," said the Barman. "I can do inventory in the back." He gestured to Drew and Flux. "And, eh, you can help me, right?"

"Uh, no, but we'll come with you to give these bozos some privacy," said Flux.

"Flux, be nice," said Drew. "But yes, we're not actually going to do inventory."

When the three of them were alone, Goggles sat down on a stool on Feedback's other side. "Let me guess: you somehow discovered that your life before your death was not exactly as the Count had presented it to you."

Feedback narrowed his eyes, and it was as good as a nod.

"Ah. Were you, then, not originally a Malevolander?"

Feedback's eyes widened, and then he made a face of disgust.

"You were, then."

Feedback nodded vigorously.

"Then what in your life could have turned you against Count Nefarious?" Goggles tapped his chin as he ruminated on that for a few moments. Then, suddenly, his goggles bugged out as he realized: "Tell me that it was not the Count himself who was directly responsible for your death."

Feedback's eyes got a strange, faraway quality before he turned and slumped over the bar, dejected.

"Hm... now, seeing as how I was killed when a light exploded and shredded my face, thus rendering my eyes useless, and Lugnut was killed in a deafening explosion thus rendering him... well, deaf... I assume that your demise had something to do with your mouth... and you were so disgusted by the implications of it all that you smashed your prosthetic. You could not bear to have a gift from the Count to make up for the inadequacy he himself bestowed upon you after everything else he did."

Feedback didn't respond, but that was as good as an affirmative.

Lugnut moved down a few stools until he was next to Feedback. "Yeah. It hurts, buddy."

They sat in silence for a long time. It was a dismal situation, Goggles realized. He was sitting with his two best friends, whom he considered brothers and who had, essentially, lost both the will and any reason to live yet were determined to continue doing so even without. Goggles had the smallest personal stake in this, as he had no attachments to his old life and was never particularly loyal to Count Nefarious in the first place. Still, the betrayal stung and the loss of purpose was dizzying.

"You need a prosthetic," said Goggles. "I know you don't want one from Count Nefarious, but you must be able to speak. There is an inventor here, the one who built the Cutifier. I believe he may be able to help. Will you accept help from a Cutopian?"

Feedback gave Goggles a long, hard stare through cautiously narrowed eyes. Then, ever so slightly, he nodded.

"Marvelous. I will see to it that a meeting is arranged..."


	9. Help from the Castle

"Of course! Any friend of the heroes of Cutopia can have the full services of the Royal Court in their time of need!"

King Hugh was smiling extra wide from up on his throne. Drew bowed, as did Flux beside him. It was early in the morning, and Drew had talked the guards into arranging a meeting with Hugh first thing that day. However, all he had told them were that three friends needed the services of Bricabrac and the protection of Cutopia's royal guard from nefarious outside forces. They had not yet disclosed the identity of the friends, the nature of the services, or the forces in question. Still, it was a testament to King Hugh's heart that he immediately volunteered help on Drew's word alone, just because someone needed help.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," said Drew, coming out of the bow. "But I'm afraid you might not be so quick to assist when you learn the details of why we've come."

"Oh, tut tut. How terrible can it be, really?"

The door to the throne room burst open and Sparky rolled in, exploding out of her tight little ball form when she was between Drew and Hugh. "Your Majesty! King Hugh! We've caught some nasty old intruders!'

"Oh, dear!" King Hugh gasped.

"Uh oh," Drew groaned.

Several armadillo guards dragged the three toon zombies into the throne room. Though Lugnut, Goggles, and Feedback were struggling and resisting, they were not fighting or lashing out. Drew was relieved to see this.

"I want them in the dungeon right now!" ordered King Hugh. "They are due for a very stern talking to! I am going to make them write, 'I will not invade Cutopia,' 100,000 times if I have to! I will not stand for this!"

"Yeah," said Flux to a disbelieving Drew, "that's the kind of thing that happens to bad guys here. Trust me, it's torture for these guys."

"Wait, your Majesty, you don't understand!" Drew held up his hands. "Please, hear me out, because you're not going to like how this begins: these are the friends I was taking about."

King Hugh stared at Drew, his mouth smiling only the tiniest bit, which for him was as good as a scowl. "You can't be serious. I know these rapscallions, they're Count Nefarious' personal henchman!"

"They were," said Drew. "Until yesterday, when they found out he lied to them about who they were before he reanimated them."

"Oh!" King Hugh covered his mouth. "Oh, my!"

"Yes. You see, Lugnut here used to be a Cutopian. And Goggles was from Zanydu. Feedback, well, apparently he was from the Malevolands all along but it turns out Count Nefarious was the one who killed him, so he's not too crazy about going back. And, well... they need to be able to stay here, where they'll be safe. And Feedback needs a new prosthetic mouth so he can talk again."

"Or not, we don't really care," Flux cut in. "It's nice not to have him yelling in my ear."

Behind Flux, Feedback made a strangling, twisting motion with his fists one on top of the other.

King Hugh sat down on his throne. "This is a lot to take in," he said. "But... Drew, I trust you. You were a stranger here and you did everything in your power to save us, even though we couldn't promise you a way home. You're a good man, and if you say you trust these three, then... well, I don't trust them but I trust your faith in them."

Drew bowed again, this time even more deeply. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

"I'll have Bricabrac whip up a new prosthetic for the noisy one. They are free to stay in Cutopia for as long as they like provided they behave themselves. I'll see to it that the public is informed of their, ah, change of heart. Cutopians are very forgiving, after all."

* * *

Convincing the king of Cutopia to welcome its enemies with open arms had been surprisingly, and suspiciously, easy. Drew was certain the rug was about to be pulled out from under all of them the whole time they were speaking with King Hugh about the specific arrangements needed, and on the walk down to the royal laboratory.

However difficult they expected the meeting with the king to be, that was how difficult talking with Bricabrac was. They found the ditzy dodo in his lab, fussing around on one of his many worktables. On the wall he had tacked several schematics for half-invented inventions, several shapes that could not possibly exist in three-dimensional space, and the snapshot of the henchmen he had used to introduce them to Drew.

"Oh, hello!" Bricabrac chirped when he saw Drew and Flux enter. Lugnut and Goggles stepped in cautiously behind him, and Feedback entered last, reluctant to enter at all.

"Hello, Bricabrac. Do you remember me?" asked Drew.

"No time for trivia questions now," said Bricabrac. "I'm busy looking for my glasses."

"Your glasses," said Drew, deadpan.

"Yes, of course. Did you already forget?"

"No," said Drew. "You're wearing your glasses."

"I'm wearing them?"

"Yes. Right now."

"But if I'm wearing my glasses, how come I can't see?"

"What can't you see?" asked Flux, half-smirking.

"Well, I can't see you, the alien, and the three terrible henchmen who just came into my office! I can't see them at all."

Drew sputtered, "But didn't you just-"

Flux gave Drew a slap on his thigh. "Don't go down that road, Drew. It doesn't go anywhere."

Drew changed tack. "Maybe you need a new prescription?"

"A new prescription for what?" Bricabrac suddenly gasped. "I'm not sick, am I?"

"What? No. Well, I don't know, maybe. But I meant for your glasses."

"Why, what's wrong with my glasses?"

"Well... didn't you just say you can't see?"

"No, I can see perfectly fine!" Bricabrac gave Drew a concerned look. "Do you need to go lie down, Drew? You're acting strange."

Drew leaned forward, the heel of his palms pressed into his eyes so hard he was seeing stars behind the black.

"Hey, buddy," said Flux warmly, walking up to Bricabrac and slapping his back in a jovial manner. "So, King Hugh asked you to whip up a new machine."

"He did?" Bricabrac perked up.

"Yeah." Flux pointed at Feedback. "See that short, angry looking guy with no mouth? You need to invent a way for him to talk."

"Him?" Bricabrac pointed at Feedback while looking at Flux. "Huh. You know, he looks really familiar." As he said this, his face was fewer than three feet away from the picture of Feedback, Lugnut, and Goggles that he had hung on his wall.

"Does he, now?" Flux asked, now grinning broadly.

Goggles and Lugnut exchanged worried looks. Feedback, meanwhile, was glaring so hard Drew was surprised there weren't holes burning in Bricabrac's lab coat.

"Have you been here before?" asked Bricabrac.

"To this room, or the castle in general?" asked Goggles.

"What about the castle?"

"Yeah, I'm not doing this," said Lugnut. "You guys have fun with this, I'm going... away from the bird. He's making me sad."

"Indeed," said Goggles as Lugnut left. "It feels as if we should be putting him in some sort of home."

"I already have a home," said Bricabrac. "It's a nice one. I don't want to move. Although, I don't really remember where it is..."

"He doesn't have a home," Flux said as an aside to Drew. "He's been living out of this lab for the past six years."

"Now, what did you come down here for?" asked Bricabrac.

Drew pointed to Feedback. "He needs a mouth. He doesn't have one."

"Oh, a mouth? Is that all?" Bricabrac went over to his workbench and, with one sweep of his arm, knocked everything currently on top of it onto the ever-growing mess that was the floor. Bricabrac pulled out all manner of bits and bobs that couldn't possibly fit together and set to work so fiercely that a cloud of smoke completely obscured what he was doing. A minute later, it dissipated and Bricabrac was left holding a bright pink megaphone.

"Here, will this do?" asked Bricabrac as he handed it to Drew.

Drew took the megaphone and handed it to Feedback. "Well, will it?"

Feedback snatched it and held it up to his face, hesitating slightly before letting it make contact. He looked furious, but was still clearly tentative as he said his test words with cautious rage: "Testing. Testing. Check one, check two. Sibilance. Sibilance."

"It works?" Flux said with mild surprise.

"So there is a savant half," said Drew.

Finding his megaphone working, Feedback got right in Bricabrac's face and used it to shout, "Why did you make it pink?!"

"Oh, you don't like pink?"

"No," Feedback snarled, spit flying from his megaphone. "I don't like pink."

"Then why did you get your megaphone in pink?"

"Are you kidding me with this? You literally just now made this for me!"

Bricabrac straightened up. "Me? I made that? I would remember something like that, I think."

"You don't even remember what your dang-blast-it name is, do you?"

"All right," said Goggles, briskly walking up to stand between Feedback and Bricabrac. "That's enough of that, let's not take up any more the nice engineer's time." Goggles took Feedback by the shoulders from behind and steered him out of the lab. In Feedback's ear he whispered, "Perhaps you shouldn't have so carelessly discarded your old one, then?"

Feedback flared. "I'd rather talk out of a pink megaphone for the rest of my life or go silent than use something from him."


	10. Facing Forward

Goggles and Feedback met up with Lugnut outside the castle. Drew and Flux came with them, but for the moment were hanging back. Drew was uncomfortable leaving them, as he knew it was his good name that their opportunity was riding on and he didn't want anything to happen with him not there. Yet he also knew he was an intruder in this moment, and did not want to trespass on it. Flux, on the other hand, had finally finished digesting the watermelon and was poking around for something else bigger than his head to try to eat.

"You'll be displeased to know our friend has regained the ability to speak," said Goggles as he joined Lugnut.

"Watch your mouth," Feedback snarled.

"Oh. Hey." Lugnut glanced over his shoulder at something the others couldn't recognize, then he turned around. "Uh... you might like this, but... I maybe found us a place to live."

"What? Just now? Why, that's wonderful!" Goggles looked pleased.

"How?" Feedback was immediately suspicious.

"Well, uh... see, I was poking more around about who I used to be, and... see, the barman said that, um... that the guy, Aramis, was saving up for a house for him and Emma Rose to move into. Turns out that's not the whole story. They actually did put a down payment on a house before he died... Emma Rose got a settlement from the accident and paid off the house, but never moved in. It's been sitting there, empty, this whole time... um, because I own it."

"You own a house?" Feedback and Goggles said together. Though Goggles said it impressed and Feedback said it mockingly.

"Yeah."

"That's marvelous," said Goggles, beaming. "But how did- when did you find out?"

"Uh, just now," said Lugnut. He handed over a thick envelope to Goggles, who opened it up and scanned it. "It's all the paperwork and the deed to the house, along with... a few personal correspondences. Emma Rose wrote a lot of letters, I guess someone saved them..."

In Goggles' educated opinion, everything looked squared away. He saw a few pieces of stationary in the back, written in gorgeous cursive script, but he tucked them back in without reading them. They seemed too private. Everything else, though, was nice and legal.

"Where did you get this ?"

Lugnut shrugged. "I dunno, someone just gave it to me."

Realizing that he wasn't being told the whole story, Goggles opted to let the matter drop. "Then, shall we see if it has been kept out of disrepair to an appropriate level?"

Feedback glared at Goggles. "Just who are you trying to impress with that vocabulary, anyway?"

Goggles' face went red before he managed to say, "No one! I choose my words for precision of meaning!"

"Yeah, right."

Lugnut chuckled. Something about watching them interact made him feel a little better about things. Fate had cruelly taken all their lives away from them, but after that, it had seen fit to bring them all together, and that was something. It wasn't much, but it was something, and even though they didn't have any real connection to each other that wasn't forced upon them by Count Nefarious, Lugnut still felt like they belonged together. Had he been more well-read, he may have seen that even in life, they may still have been destined to be together.

Still, they would go to the house and...

... and what?

Seeing his moment, Drew stepped up to the group. "Lugnut... can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Huh? Oh. Sure."

Lugnut and Drew stepped aside, leaving Goggles and Feedback to bicker on their own. "I'm sorry," said Lugnut, "I don't think I remember your name."

"It's Drew. Drew Blanc," said Drew. I just wanted to tell you something about where I come from. Back home I'm a cartoonist and animator. I created the character Fluffy Fluffy Bun Bun and have been working on her show ever since. At the time it was just another job, I thought I would be moving on to bigger and better things. But the show took off and I was still making it ten years later. I hated it. I hated my life, and I hated drawing rabbits. The day before I came here, I was tasked with creating an entire brood of colorful, cutesy rabbits to revitalize the show. I was stumped. I didn't want to do it, but in this economy, there aren't that many jobs for my profession. Even ones with a resume like mine. So..." Drew paused, considering his words carefully. "Although I do still want to return home, a lot... it's not so bad starting a new life here, free of the obligations and limitations that were suffocating me in my old life."

Lugnut tilted his head.

"What I'm trying to say is, I know what you're going through. I mean, not with the whole being dead and having another life thing, that's all you... but not knowing how to start a new life even though you're glad to be rid of the old one? Yeah. That's not easy."

"Is that why you wanted to help me?"

"Actually, that didn't factor into it. I just felt sorry for you." Drew flinched. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way."

"Nah, don't worry about it. I get it."

"Look at it this way: at least you're going through it with your brothers, or whatever you three are to each other. I love Flux and all, but he doesn't really understand how hard this was for me because he's so happy here, and he's always been here."

"Oh." Lugnut nodded. "So, hey, if you ever, like, wanna talk about it or something... I dunno, maybe stop by the house?" He paused. "I don't think I ever apologized for how I treated you back when... uh, when I was working for Count Nefarious. I'm sorry. I didn't want to, I was just scared of what he would do. Oh, jeez. That's not much of an apology, is it? It puts it all back on you, like-"

"It's okay," said Drew. "I know how you meant it. Why don't you and those guys go to your house? Maybe Flux and I will stop by later."

"Much later," said Flux, coming out from behind the building. He was holding a pumpkin over his head. "I fount it! The next big thing I'm going to swallow whole!"

"Flux, put that down!"

"If you don't want to see my jaw unhinge, look away now!" Flux opened his mouth wide.

Goggles and Feedback were still bickering- "Perhaps I flaunt these ten-dollar words because I don't believe your poverty of vocabulary is any reason to restrain myself!" "Why don't you say that to my face!" "I just did, you simpleton!"- when suddenly they stopped and were horrified and mesmerized by the sight of Flux swallowing a pumpkin whole. 

And it was in that moment, the three of them together, with allies nearby and the complete focus off of their troubles even for only a brief moment, that Lugnut knew everything was going to be okay.


	11. Epiloge

It was quiet back in Count Nefarious's castle. No gator guards were currently patrolling the interior, and without the undead trio rumbling about, constantly squabbling, there was nothing to break the silence of the heavy gloom that settled over the Malevolands at night like a quilt made of hatred. The only two still stirring were Nefarious himself and Ms. Fortune, his sultry cat-woman fortune teller.

Ms. Fortune's den was dark and smokey, with only one single beam of moonlight trickling in from the ceiling to aid the candles scattered about the table around her crystal ball. The velvet curtains around her table were drawn all around them to keep all of the future in. Count Nefarious was leaning in with anticipation as she waved her paws around her crystal ball, summoning visions of what was yet to come.

"Tell me," said Count Nefarious. "Will I ever get to squish the life out of those three ungrateful traitors?"

Ms. Fortune slowly waved her paws over the crystal ball, and she frowned. "I am sorry, Count Nefarious, but I do not foresee any possible future where you, yourself, are the one to take revenge on them."

Count Nefarious slammed his fist on the table. "They will not get away with this betrayal! I refuse to allow it! I will send every soldier I have out there to bring them back. I'll send my entire armada out after them if it will-"

"But," said Ms. Fortune, ignoring his interruption, "I see misery and torment for all three of them for the rest of their lives. Without the guidance of your malevolent regime, they will eventually tear each other apart metaphorically as well as literally. Provided they never learn to work together, of course."

"Oh?" Count Nefarious chortled. "Ah, then, that's it, is it? If I kill them quickly it will be over, but those three incompetent half-formed ninnies couldn't work together if and when their lives depended on it. Heh heh... watching their freedom destroy them will be its own reward. How fiendishly delightful."

"Yes," purred Ms. Fortune. "Then, if there's nothing else, I must have some time alone for my... ruminations."

"Of course," said Count Nefarious, and he left.

Once she was alone, Ms. Fortune kicked her crate out from under the table, the boxes and papers she'd obtained from Cutopia. Having looked into the future herself soon after the three's disappearance, she had seen fit to help them along the path of destruction. All it took were a few petitions to the Hall of Adorable Records, a look into some old storage boxes, and she had secured the path of the traitor's downfall. No need to trouble Count Nefarious with the details, as long as they all fell apart in the end.

Unless, Heaven forbid, they actually could learn to live with each other.

It was a frightening thought.


End file.
